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Chapter 21 – Tainted Dove

May 9, 2012


Chapter 21 – “Tainted Dove”

June 12, 1973 – I-95, Florida

She was only mildly concerned about the sideways leer she noticed out of the corner of her eye from the truck driver. She could in most cases, take care of herself.

The rain was hitting the windshield hard now. The wipers couldn’t keep up with the water. Within the space of a split second she saw the exit for Daytona Beach and then it was obscured again by the downpour.

The water was somehow comforting. It was as though it was washing away her past. Washing away the dirty hands, the saliva, and, yes, the semen. It cleansed the things she’d had to do to survive. It santized her.

The more recent things she felt a little guilty about. She had left Freddie with a broken leg and nose. He had deserved it, of course. And when she beat the location of his cash—her cash, hers and the rest of the girls!—she left with all of it. She wasn’t thinking carefully or she’d have left some with the girls, maybe given them enough to get away, maybe even asked them if they wanted to come along.

But she hadn’t. She took it all and left without looking behind. Besides, the other girls were so afraid of Freddie she doubted they would leave him. He was their god. He wasn’t shy about reminding them of that, whether it was praise for a good night, swift painful correction of some real or imagined slight, or random infliction of agony and/or ecstasy dealt while worshipping at Freddie’s altar. Doing it right or doing it wrong or just because he was mad about something else or high, there was rarely logic to how he dished out pleasure and pain, praise and abuse. It was just his moods.

She felt bad about thinking those thoughts, but prayer had done little to get her and the other girls out of their situation. In fact, some of their most frequent customers were “men of God.” They cared little for the girls’ well-being and only sought their own ‘religious experience’ by using someone else’s flesh.

If God had given a damn about her, he was painfully slow about doing anything about it. It was, in fact, a Buddhist who had helped her to figure out how to get out of her hellish life. Though he hadn’t done so for free, but she had to admit that he really seemed to care for her.

He had shown her that size, such as Freddie’s, didn’t matter as much as training, skill, and a prepared mind. He taught her three kinds of martial arts during his frequent visits and was impressed when she, instinctively he said, could switch from one to the other with grace.

“Heheheh. You try that on best shodokan black belt, he will be very surprised. He will not expect it. Surprise is a warrior’s other friend after preparation.”

She didn’t put much stock in Buddha, either. But the fact that one of his believers had helped to set her free at least meant there were options beyond slavery, and the man had shown her that. He had also taught her a thing or two in bed, thinking about surprise, and she had returned the favor, thanking him for helping her to free her mind and keeping her busy enough to avoid less pleasant clientele.

She wondered if the timing of it all, he was going to Hong Kong on business indefinitely, had been the only reason he let her go, showed her the Way. Or had he chosen to take the job because she was leaving? In any case, the man was not at all afraid of Freddie, but he wouldn’t have to worry about that. No way Freddie would go to Hong Kong for revenge. More likely he would try to track her down.

Maya’s attention turned back to the truck when she realized the driver had pulled over and they were stopped.

“Raining too hard. Can’t see.”

Tony—that was the name he said when he picked her up. From the Bronx. Tony regaled her with tales of New York. It sounded a magical place to her. So much to see. So many ways to make a buck. So many colorful characters. It sounded peachy.

But now Tony was expecting some payment. He stretched and moved his arm closer. One of the oldest tricks in the book. She sighed and laughed inwardly.

She had really had her fill of big, beefy, hairy, macho jerks who always seemed to assume.

On the other hand, she needed a ride. And it was raining. Steal the truck and leave him on the side of the road in the rain? She had had her fill of hurting others, even if they didn’t always have the purest of intentions. Who did?

She smiled and guided Tony’s hand carefully where she wanted it. She would make this Bronx boy her bitch by the time the rain let up.

New York, get ready! ‘Cause I’ll be there tomorrow.


©2011, 2012 Christopher C. Knall


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